


Love Is A Ghost You Can't Control

by xHookedonKillianx



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:26:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9000007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHookedonKillianx/pseuds/xHookedonKillianx
Summary: We slept together once and I ran because I was scared you didn’t feel the same way I did. Now I’m the Maid of Honor at my brother’s wedding and you’re the Best Man and I can’t stop thinking about what happened between us.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for my Gutter Flower Secret Santa!! It was supposed to be shorter, but the muse took off :D

Emma rushes out of her apartment hopping on one foot trying to secure her heel. She’s running late and if she doesn’t leave in the next five minutes, she’s going to be _extremely_ late. Why she agreed to be Mary Margaret’s maid of honor, she’ll never know.

_Because she’s the love of your brother’s life and you introduced them and she’s the best friend you’ve ever had, that’s why._

She growls at herself and puts her foot down as the strap of her overnight bag falls off her shoulder. She should have never stayed up late last night, she should have gone to bed early like she was supposed to. But the skip she’s been trailing decided to use his credit card and she just couldn’t pass up the opportunity.  

It wasn’t her fault that when he saw her he decided to run and crashed into two parked cars before he finally stopped driving. She was at the hospital until three and at the police station until seven getting it all sorted. Then she went home and slept through her alarm. The only reason she woke up was because Ruby called her to ask if she could borrow her black pumps.

She had about twenty minutes to get ready and that was forty minutes ago. Her phone beeps as soon as she gets in her car and her stomach does a little flip.

**I’ve earned you five minutes, you don’t want to know how. – K**

Her lips tug up into a smile and the only reason she allows it is because no one can see her. Killian Jones, David’s best friend and his best man, has been her saving grace since this whole wedding mess.

They’ve been able to plan and execute every request and demand Mary Margaret and David have handed them… he even helped her when Regina and Ruby’s bridesmaid dresses were stuck at the warehouse in Maine, she still doesn’t know he managed to get them, and they pulled off a very successful joint bachelor/bachelorette party.

But it’s no surprise, he’s always helped her out since they met back when he and David were in college together.

She suspects it’s because he always thought of her as David’s kid sister… but the truth is she’s always felt a sort of connection to Killian, they understand each other.

Also, probably because he’s gorgeous and she’s had a crush on him for just as long. It’s stupid really, something she pushed to the back of her mind. Mostly because Killian has to be the _biggest_ womanizer she’s ever seen in her entire life. He flirts with anything that has legs and it’s never the same girl twice. Thankfully she always leaves before him, it’s bad enough she watches the flirting, she doesn’t think she’d be able to watch him actually leave with one of them. But also, even though she cares for him, relationships aren’t her thing, she’s more of a one night stand girl, and it’s not like she can have a one night stand with her brother’s best friend.

Or so she told herself.

The night of the very successful joint bachelor/bachelorette party, she let those feelings surface and they ended up having very hot, very _good_ sex back at his apartment. God, the things he did to her body, she dreams about them every night.

_“Gods above, Emma,” he groans into her ear. “You taste absolutely divine.”_

A shiver runs down her spine and she shakes her head. She’s still not exactly sure how it happened. They decided to stay sober to make sure nothing went wrong, and when it was all over, he invited her back to his apartment so they could have their own celebration for such a good job. One minute he was making her laugh, the next she was straddling him while he sucked a mark on her neck under her ear.

When they were finished, he wrapped his arms around her and his warmth made her feel so safe and loved, she did the only thing she could think of. She jumped out of the bed, mumbled that it was a one-time thing and ran out of there before her thighs could stop quivering. Part of her wanted him to stop her, to show her that she was different than all the other girls he paraded around with, but then she remembered how much it hurt when Neal left her and the thought of Killian leaving terrified her.

So she ran, dodged his phone calls, only texting him back when it was necessary with the excuse that she was busy with work, and avoided him at all costs until they were forced to be in the same room.

Luckily, that room was filled with their friends, so she didn’t have to worry about him bringing up what happened between them… or worrying about him _not_ bringing it up.

He just acts as if it didn’t happen, never mentions it and goes on like they always have, even when she does nothing but give him attitude. She can’t help it, but everytime he looks at her, all she can do is remember all the things they did to each other.

There was the time she was sitting at the table in the loft and he was standing behind her. When she looked up at him, she got a quick flash of his face while his cock was in her mouth and ended up spilling coffee all over Mary Margaret’s seating chart.

Then there was the time David was arguing on the phone with the caterer and he whispered in her ear, asking something about dinner but all she could hear was his voice, breathless, harsh, and full of want.

_“That’s it, beautiful, squeeze my cock, bloody hell, your quim is so tight.”_

She jumped and accidentally elbowed him in the gut after that.

Picking up her phone she types him back a quick message and starts the fifteen-minute journey to her brother’s loft.

**Unless you’ve lost a limb, I don’t want to hear it – E**

He texts back almost instantly, but she doesn’t get to check it until the next red light.

**She’s fed my left hand to a crocodile, Swan. I hope you are pleased with yourself – K**

**Now all you’ll need is a waxed mustache and a perm and your Captain Hook costume will be all set! – E**

**Volunteering to be my wench? – K**

She sucks in a breath and a memory of _that_ night flashes in her mind.

_“Come for me, Emma,” he hisses as he grinds down onto her. “Such a good girl.”_

Shaking her head, she texts him back that she’ll be there in five minutes and throws her phone onto the passenger seat. All she has to do is get through two more nights and she can get back on track with forgetting all about Killian Jones and the stupid useless feelings she has for him.

Pulling up to the house, she ignores the flutter in her chest when she sees him standing outside waiting for her. He’s wearing black dress slacks, a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a red tie.

_Damn him for looking so good._

She presses her lips together and steps out of her car while she busies herself with grabbing her bag so she won’t stare, “Is she freaking out? I over slept, there was this perp and a car crash and it was this whole big thing.” She turns to finally look at him but stops when she sees his mouth hanging open.

His eyes, glazed over with lust, move down her body and her skin starts to instantly heat up. The last time he looked at her like that, she ended up bent over his couch while his tongue traced her spine.

“Jones, are you okay?”

Her voice seems to snap him out of his thoughts and he shakes his head before stepping forward, “Aye,” he mumbles and lifts his hand to take her bag. “Mary Margaret is alright. David asked her about the flowers so you’ll find her unknown of your tardiness.”

She lets out a sigh and closes the back door of her car.

“My brother is a lifesaver,” she replies as they walk toward the loft.

He snorts before saying, “I believe it was I who told your brother of your dilemma.”

“Yes, but he’s the one who is doing the distracting. I can carry that you know…” she says, motioning to her bag.

“It’s alright, Swan,” he opens the door and steps aside so she can walk through first. “Ladies, first.”

Forcing herself not to blush, she gives a slight nod and walks in.

“So you guys are staying at Ruth’s house tonight, right?”

“Aye,” he answers as they climb the stairs. “The wedding bus will retrieve us first, drop us at the park then come here to fetch the lot of you.”

“Nothing says happy wedding like a big sleepover the night before,” she sighs before the stop out front of the loft’s door. “Tell me again why we agreed to this.”

“Because he’s your brother and my best mate and his loving wife to be would make our lives a living hell if we didn’t”

“Right,” she says with a nod.

“Come now, Swan. Don’t look so glum,” he says with a smirk. “You never know what surprises the next two nights have in store for us.”

For some reason, his words make her stomach flutter.

* * *

Emma takes another sip of her champagne and looks around the room. The rehearsal went perfectly and the dinner just as well. People seem to be having a good time and all of the _just in case_ scenarios her and Killian came up with haven’t needed to be used.

They do work well together.

A quick flash of how _well_ they worked together the night at his apartment went through her mind and she flushes.

God how she wishes things were different and that she could tell him what it actually meant to her. Because she can see it in her head. How caring and _loving_ their relationship would be… how _happy_ she would be… and that’s why she can’t tell him the truth.

Because then she’ll be giving him the power to break her and she’s not sure she would be able to come back from that.

Shaking her head, she rids herself of those thoughts and waves to one of Mary Margaret’s cousins. She’s done a pretty good job at avoiding people and keeping the smile plastered on her face. If she’s being honest with herself, it’s not hard, seeing how happy David and Mary Margaret are makes her happy, so she decides dealing with her adoptive family for a weekend isn’t so bad.

Turning to get some fresh air, she bumps into someone by mistake.

“Oh, crap, I’m so sorry!” She looks up and mentally curses when she sees the person she ran into.

It’s Cora, Mary Margaret’s step mother.

“Ms. Swan,” she breathes out, her voice already dripping with contemptment. “You look…” she trails off as she lifts her eyebrow is disgust.

Emma looks down at her black mini dress with her brows furrowed. It was a nice dress, Mary Margaret helped her pick it out. But then again, Cora thinks anything that isn’t designer should end up in the trash.

Shaking her head, she presses her lips together in a forced smile and says, “It’s good that you were able to make it. Regina said there was a chance you wouldn't be able to be here until tomorrow.”

“Yes, well, someone needs to make sure everything runs smoothly,” Emma opens her mouth to tell her she doesn't need to worry, but Cora continues. “Tomorrow is a very important day, I'm sure you are aware.”

“Of course, I've made sure Mary Margaret has had everything-”

Cora lets out a dry chuckle and cuts her off, “You? What does an orphan know about planning a wedding?”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she stands up straight and says, “I don't see how my past has anything-”

“It has everything to do with it,” Cora hisses. “Weddings are about celebrating _love_ with your _family._ What do you know about either of those things?”

Emma takes a step back as her heart starts to pound in her chest.

“You're almost thirty and you've never once been in a serious relationship. Did you even bring a date?” She opens her mouth, but Cora continues. “No, of course you didn't, because who would want to even entertain the idea of being with someone that has no future?”

A quick flash of Killian’s face goes through her mind and she whispers, “That’s not why…”

Cora waves her hand. “You may have fooled everyone else, but you haven't fooled me. You will not ruin this wedding. David’s father is a very powerful man, and this marriage will open doors for me in way that I never dreamed…” She almost snorts at that because David hasn't spoken to his father in twelve years, but it seems Cora doesn't know that. “And I will be _damned_ if someone who doesn't matter ruins that.”

“What?” Emma asks, her head tilted in disbelief.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear, Ms. Swan, _nothing_ will happen tomorrow that can mess this up for me, do you understand? You will smile, you will play nice and you will try to act like a proper lady and not the street rat we all know you truly are.”

Her mouth falls open and she just stares at the women in front of her, not knowing what to say. She’s always known that Cora didn’t like her, she barely liked Mary Margaret who was her step daughter and Regina, who is her _actual_ daughter, but she’s at least been civil toward her.

Cora rolls her eyes and mumbles, “Close your mouth, dear. You don’t live in a car. Well… not anymore.”

With a smirk, she walks off, leaving Emma staring ahead with unshed tears in her eyes.  

* * *

* * *

Killian chuckles at the old woman’s joke and leans forward to allow her to kiss his cheek.

“If I were thirty years younger!” Johanna tells him with a slight giggle.

“Who says you have to be younger?” His eyebrow ticks up and a pink tint forms on her cheeks.

“Oh you!” She swats his arm and he gives another chuckle. “The girl in your life sure is lucky.”

He gives a slight shrug and answers, “Unfortunately there is no girl to speak of.”

Her head tilts and she wiggles her finger at him, “Now, now. You can't lie to me. I know the look of love, and you, my dear, have it all over your face.” Blonde hair and green eyes flash in his mind and he feels his lips twitch. “Ah, there it is. See, I told you.”

With shy smile, he looks to his feet. Five years ago, he was walking out of his dorm room when the most beautiful creature he's ever seen crashed into his arms. He stared at her for what seemed like ages, unable to form words due to her beauty, until David walked out and introduced her as his sister.

Of bloody course she was his best mate’s sister, because the universe loves to torture him. If he was a decent man, that would have stopped him there, but it didn't.

They’ve become quite close, he and Emma, there’s just something about her… they understand each other, better than anyone really. They even have this _thing_ , David likes to call it, where they have a conversation without even speaking.

It’s not as if they do it on purpose, it’s just something they picked up on after spending so much time together. A burden he must bear by being mates with her brother…

Not that he’s really complaining.

For years, there hasn't been a day that's gone by that he hasn't thought of her… and now that he's had her.

Gods.

It was completely unplanned, but utterly and completely incredible. The way she felt around him… he dreams of it every night. The way her hair bounced while she was on top of him, the little noises she made while he sucked on her nipples.

_“Killian… please, touch me.”_

For a while, she was his and he didn't have to hold back, he was able to show her just what she meant to him and how he adored her. But then he pulled her into his arms, ready to tell her the truth of his feelings, and she ran.

Told him that it was a onetime thing and left with her scent still lingering on his skin. He tried calling, but she ignored him. He wanted to tell her that it meant something, but refused to do it through a text.

When he saw her again, she didn't seem phased. Spoke to him as if they hadn't spent a night exploring each other's skin like they were treasure maps and never once hinted that it possibly meant more.

So he kept quiet, followed her lead even though it killed him and the memories tortured him every time they were together.

There was the time David was telling her a story, and she threw her head back in laughter, but all he could see was her on top of him, with her head thrown back at she moaned, _“Oh god! Yes, I'm going to come!”_

He couldn't move from his seat for forty-five minutes due to the hard on that wouldn't go away.

And then the time they all decided to get together to watch a movie and she brought twizzlers. When he saw her bring one of the vines up to her lips and take bite, he had a sudden flash of her lightly biting on his thumb, giggling while she straddled him on his couch.

It kept replaying over in his mind to the point where he has no idea what happened in the movie.

“Word of advice, sweetie,” Johanna says, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Tell the girl how you feel… her response might surprise you.”

Pressing his lips together in a forced smile, he nods before Mary Margaret’s aunt walks off. Telling Emma how he feels is something he very much _wants_ to do, but he doesn’t want to lose her.

He knows what happened with her and Neal, one night when she was still living with Mary Margaret at the loft, they were all there playing games, and like most nights, he and Emma were the last ones awake, sharing battle stories of when they were younger and on the run.

That night, he told her about Milah and she told him about Neal.

They were both wronged by people that they loved and it left scars, her scars made her scared and closed off. He’s, unwillingly, witnessed her attempts at dating. They always end with the male wanting more and Emma running.

He doesn’t want her to run from him. Though it’s the worst torment he can think of, loving her without being able to tell her is far better than not having her in his life at all.

“You alright?”

Killian looks to see David walk up, a fresh beer in his hand.

“Aye,” he replies, taking the offered beverage. “Just speaking with your soon to be aunt Johanna.”

David chuckles and shakes his head, “You mean flirting with her?”

“Well, I am devilishly handsome,” he takes a sip of his beer. “How are things on your end?”

“My mother just informed me that my cousin Jefferson will be flying in tonight so she’s asked that you and I share my room so he doesn’t wake anyone.”

Killian lifts his eyebrow and smirks, “Oh, Dave, one last night with you before you’re married, I knew you loved me.”

“You better not snore,” he says with a bump on his shoulder.

The two men exchange a laugh before silence falls upon them. They smile and make small talk with people that approach, but Killian can’t keep his eyes from looking around the room. He hasn’t seen Emma in a while and it’s starting to worry him because the last he saw her she was sitting at the bar with her third drink.

Not that he cares, she’s free to do as she pleases, but he could see that something was vexing her. Her eyes were dim and the smile on her face seemed more forced than normal.

“Looking for my sister?”

Killian’s head whips over to see him smirking. David knew they were close, he’s often commented how well of a team they are, but he doesn’t know if he’s aware of Killian’s true feelings for Emma. He’s hinted, but has never out right asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

David snorts, “Whatever you say, _mate_. But do me a favor, go find her. Mary Margaret hasn’t seen her in a while and though I know it’s probably just her getting some air, my soon to be wife will…”

“Think it’s something she’s done,” Killian finishes for him with a nod. “Aye. I’ll go find her.”

With a pat on the shoulder from David, he walks off toward the back of Regina’s house, leaving his bottle on her kitchen counter. They were given strict instructions that the guests were to stay _out_ of the backyard, something about new grass, honestly, he wasn’t paying attention. But if it was him, that’s where he’d go.

Slipping out into the night, he looks around, his eyes adjusting to the dark. He doesn’t spot her right away, but he knows she’s out there. He places his hands in his pockets and resists the urge to step on Regina’s perfectly manicured lawn just because she doesn’t want him to.

Then he hears a curse from the back of the yard and he’s moving a little faster. His brow furrows at the sight he’s met with. Emma is sitting on the swing set Regina had installed for her step son, her left hand clutching the chain while she reaches for the fallen bottle on the ground.

“Everything alright there, Swan?”

Her head lifts and she gazes at him through a curtain of her hair. Her eyes are glassy and her mouth is parted slightly.

“Emma?”

He steps forward and he’s suddenly hit with the very strong scent of rum. He’s on high alert then. They’ve spent many a night sharing libations, before _that_ night, they would take turns showing up on each other’s doorstep with a fresh bottle when they were feeling particularly down, but never once has she drowned in her own sorrows.

Her gaze moves back to the ground as she continues to try and reach for the bottle. “How did you find me?” His eyebrow ticks up, and even though she isn’t looking at him, she snorts. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You know I can always find you, Swan,” he walks over and kneels to pick up the bottle. It’s only a quarter of the way filled and something tells him it wasn’t that way when she found it. “Drinking my favorite rum without me? Are you trying to wound me?”

With a huff, her arms fall to her sides and her head tilts up toward him, “I didn’t know I needed permission, looks like another thing to add to the list of screw ups done by Emma Swan.”

“What’s that, now?” he asks softly as he sits on the swing next to her.

She shakes her head, grumbling something under her breath, and turns to look back out into the night.

When she doesn’t say anything, he tries a different tactic, “The party seems to be moving along swimmingly, perhaps our backup plans were unnecessary.”

Her frown deepens and he lifts his hand to brush down her arm but she stands. She stumbles and he has to jump up from his own swing to catch her, _bloody hell_ , she’s extremely drunk.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” she slurs and pushes him away.

Holding his hands up, he tilts his head, “Emma, what’s wrong?”

Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, move over his face while her body sways back and forth. She still doesn’t say anything, but he can tell there’s a war raging inside of her.

“Nothing,” she finally sighs with a fake smile. “I’m just… celebrating.” He arches his eyebrow but before he can comment she continues. “My brother is getting married, he’s found his one True Love… what could be wrong?”

“So you came out here on your own, to _celebrate_ your brother’s upcoming marriage by-,” he looks down at the bottle in his hand. “-drinking an entire bottle of rum?”

“I didn’t drink the _whole_ bottle,” she slurs.

He rolls his eyes and tucks the bottle under his arm as he mumbles, “Just about.”

She lifts her hands to brush a piece of hair out of her face and he can’t help but smile at how adorable she looks. Her nose scrunches when the hair gets stuck on the corner of her mouth and she spends a couple seconds trying to free it before he finally steps forward to help her.

“We should get you home, Swan,” he whispers, his finger dragging down her cheek to free the rebel strand.

Her bottom lip pouts in a way that makes him want to tug it in between his teeth before she whines, “I can’t go home. I’m supposed to be making sure the party is-”

“The party is fine, Emma,” he cuts her off, placing his hand on her elbow. “You, on the other hand, will not be if you don’t get some sleep.”

He’s surprised to see her lips press together and anger form on her face.

“I can handle the party, Jones! I’m not going to ruin it.”

He balks at her words and takes a step back, “Of course you’re not. I was merely suggesting a bit of rest, love. You deserve it, you’ve done a smashing job with this party, but tomorrow is going to be a long day for all of us…” His head tilts and he gives her a small smile with a nod. “What do you say we forgo the group goodbyes and do our famous Swan-Jones slip?”

That makes her giggle and his heart feels lighter. The frown is no longer on her face and though he’s still not sure what’s vexing her, it’s better than nothing.

When she nods, he grins and looks back to the house.

“Alright,” he whispers, turning back to her. “Now, I know there’s a hall that queenie has taped off so that us lowly peasant folk may not enter, but it also means that it’s the perfect escape route. What do you say, love? Shall we sail away?”

With the smile still on her face, she nods and takes the arm he offers to her. They sneak off without anyone catching them, though he does manage to send a text off to Robin and Ruby to inform them so that no one worries.

She spends the entire car ride talking, which at any other time, he wouldn’t mind, he loves hearing her speak, but she’s talking about nothing in particular… jumping from different subjects and rambling about nonsense.

Her fear of silence is very telling. She’s trying to keep her mind occupied, not wanting to think about something… if only she would just tell him what was bothering her.

When they pull up to the loft, he barely has her car turned off before she’s attempting to open the door.

“Ah, allow me. A lady such as yourself should always have the door opened for her.” He doesn’t have to be looking at her to know that she’s rolled her eyes at him. He hops out of the car and jogs over to open her door. “Come on, love.”

Her legs swing out to the side, but she doesn’t move. He watches as her face scrunches in an adorable pout while she stares at her feet.

“I can’t walk in these shoes,” she slurs before looking up at him with her glassy eyes. “They are too pointy.” She lifts her leg and he lurches forward to grab her arm so she doesn’t fall back. “Do you see these things?”

“Aye,” he mumbles with his jaw clenched. Those bloody heels have been torturing him since she stepped out of her vehicle. Kneeling, he brings her foot to his lap and begins to undo the strap around her ankle.

She’s quiet while he works, except for the occasional hiccup, until he finally has the shoes off her feet.

“How did you get that scar on her cheek?”

His eyebrow ticks up as he stands, “Pirate fight.”

She rolls her eyes, well, attempts to her in her state, and moves to stand. He tries to help her, but she pushes him away, forcing him to follow behind with his hand out in case she stumbles. She clings to the banister as they climb the stairs to the loft and when she slips, he just about has a heart attack, only relaxing when they finally make it to the top.

“Still with me, love?” he asks to her back, lowering his hands slightly but still watching her like a hawk.

He watches as she brings her clutch to her chest and grumbles something about keys. He’s never seen her this drunk before, something must have happened, but she refuses to tell him and it’s really starting to make him worry. She can barely get her keys out of her bag and he’s just about to offer to do it himself when she finally locates them, but then her hand fumbles and he steps in behind her.

“Let me help,” he murmurs behind her shoulder as he gently wraps his fingers around her hand.

Her head falls back against his shoulder and she lets out a little sigh, “It won’t stop moving. Do locks normally move?”

“Shh, it’s alright,” he says softly, trying to ignore the warmth of her touch. This is the closest she’s allowed them to be since _that_ night and it’s harder than he anticipated. “I’m here.” He puts his arm around her to shift her aside slightly as he takes the key and turns it in the lock. With a gentle shove, he pushes the door open. “Where do you want these?”

He holds out the keys in front of her, feeling her hair brush his cheek as he turns his head and almost leaning into it before he stops himself with a tiny shake of his head.

She shrugs and tells him it doesn’t matter before she stumbles toward the kitchen. Placing her keys on an end table and her shoes on the floor, he looks up only to flinch when her hip bumps into the island, but she doesn’t stop.

His head tilts and he walks toward her as she starts to open cabinets. “Are you looking for something?”

“You want some rum?”

While a small part of him would love a glass or two to ease the errant knot in his stomach, he needs to look after her, and if she drinks any more she’s going to put herself in the hospital.

“Love…” he starts in his most soothing voice, taking another step toward her. “I don’t think either of us drinking more is a good idea. Come and sit with me instead?” He motions toward the sofa and meets her eyes.

She visibly swallows and looks over to the couch. His entire body goes tense as he awaits her answer. She seems to be on some sort of mission and in no way does he wish to invoke her wrath.

He lets out a sigh of relief when she nods and holds his arm out toward the couch. His fist clenches when her shin hits the table.

“It’s not late, is it?” Her eyes move to the clock on the wall and she lets out a groan. “Only nine thirty? Why am I home?

“Clearly you wanted to spend some quality time with me,” he chuckles, sitting down next to her, drinking in her state for a moment with a smile.

_Still beautiful, even like this,_ he thinks with a soft sigh.

She rolls her eyes with a snort, “In your dreams, Jones.”

“Aye,” he whispers, barely audible. “Most nights.”

They sit there in silence for a long time with Emma staring off as he watches her face. There’s a quick flash of discomfort that settles into her pretty features before she masks them and starts to move again.

“I need something more to drink.”

“Emma,” he says, placing a hand on hers. “Stay… please. I can see something is vexing you, love. What happened?”

She looks down at her dress and her frown deepens, “Do you think this dress looks cheap? I mean, it’s not designer… but it goes with Mary Margaret’s theme and I thought it was nice enough.”

He doesn’t even look down at it before he answers, holding his gaze on her face. “You look stunning, I assure you. But the dress isn’t really what’s bothering you, is it?”

Her lips press together and his brow reaches his hairline when she starts to rant, “You know, just because I don’t have as much money as everyone else doesn’t mean I’m a charity case! I saved every penny I had to pay my portion and I worked my ass off making sure Mary Margaret got everything she wanted.”

“We all know that, Swan… why would-”

“I just don’t understand how my mere presence can ruin this wedding! I’ve done everything that was asked of me!”

He purses his lips, a flicker of anger spreading on his face. “Who told you that? You’ve done nothing wrong,” he says a hint of a growl making it to his voice. When she gives him a side look, he looks down at his lap and shakes his head. “Apologies for my temper, love. No one should speak to you that way.”

She ignores his comment and sits up, her voice starting to shake a little. “I know I don’t come from anything… I’m aware that I’m some orphan girl that doesn’t have a long list of first and second named people in my family but Ruth adopted me and I’m _just_ as much David’s family as anyone else and I deserve to be there!”

“Of course, you do! Who-”

Turning to him, her face scrunches up in anger and she waves her hand in the air, “Okay, sure, I’m twenty-eight years old and I live in a shitty apartment, but I _like_ my shitty apartment! And yes, I don’t have a date to this wedding, but that was my choice! And maybe I don’t have a clear view of what my future is… but I _like_ my life! It’s exciting and fun and…” she trails off and lets out a frustrated groan. “Who made Cora the queen of Storybrooke, anyway?!”

“Ah, _her_.” His brow furrows and his lip curls into a sneer. “If karma isn’t a fiction, that witch has it coming to her.” Shifting a few inches closer, he looks into Emma’s eyes and gives her a pointed glare. “Love, if you listen to anyone, don’t make it a damned woman with her head so far up her own arse she hasn’t seen the sun in years. Nobody has the right to tell you what to do with your life, not me, not your brother, and especially not bloody Cora.”

He sits back with a harsh sigh, shaking his head to try and clear the frown that had firmly settled on it. He sees her nod from the corner of his eye, but she doesn’t say anything for a long while. The anger continues to course through him. Who the bloody hell does that woman think she was to speak to Emma in such a way?

That woman is a vapid, poor excuse for a mother who dreams of nothing but heartache and carnage. There’s a reason David has so rightfully nicknamed his future step mother in law the queen of hearts, she’d rip everyone’s out with her bare hands if she could.

“She was so mean. She told me that I didn’t matter…” Her shoulders start to shake as she begins to sob lightly. “Why would she say that if it wasn’t true?”

He glances around at the sound of her cry, instantly shifting to place himself against her side and put one arm around her shoulders.

“Shh, shh…” he hushes, resting his head against hers. “You matter,”’ he murmurs. “You’ve family who love you. Friends who love you. You matter, I promise.” As he tucks himself closer into her side, he mumbles almost completely under his breath, “You matter to me.”

Her shoulders continue to shake as she falls into him and wraps herself around his body. His insides are pulling him into opposite directions. On one end, he wants to storm out of the loft, find the queen of hearts herself and give her a taste of her own medicine, but on the other, his love is hurting, and he wants to comfort her.

“It’s so stupid,” she cries into his neck. “I know… I shouldn’t listen to her. But I just… I’m trying to do everything right here. I don’t want to ruin their day. I don’t know what I did wrong!”

“Swan, how can I convince you that you did nothing wrong? Everything is fine. The wedding is going to be beautiful, I’m certain, and a sizeable piece of that beauty is going to be your wonderful self in that positively _sinful_ dress.” He nudges her gently, no leer in his gaze despite his words, and smiles down at her. “Trust me.”

She doesn’t respond to his words, but her sobs seem to have subsided. He’s glad for it, because seeing her in such pain is heart breaking to him. Pulling her closer, his fingers start to trail up and down her arm.

After a while, her arms tighten around him and her lips brush against his neck, “You smell good.”

His breath hitches, loins stirring at the lingering memory of her mouth on him as her lips touch his skin. “Emma,” he murmurs, voice coming out far more gravelly than he intended.

“You always smell so good,” she whispers again, her right hand moving to the other side of his neck while her left tangles in his hair.

Resisting the urge to lean into her touch, _how he’s missed it,_ he shifts in his seat in an attempt to avoid any friction in increasingly sensitive areas. God forbid he gets hard now. What impression would that make? What kind of friend can’t even keep his thoughts out of his pants the moment her breath is… _mmm, right there_ … so hot on his neck. Her tongue centimeters from where he wants it; licking a trail along his skin, sucking marks on him, making him hers. He curses at the thought, quickly hoping the sound didn’t make it out of his mouth.

_So much for not getting hard._

“I can’t stop thinking about our night together… do you think about it at all?”

He swallows and his eyes close. Did she really have to ask that? He’s thought of _nothing_ since it happened. Every time he sits on his couch, he sees her kneeling before him, a sexy smirk on her face and every time he lays on his bed, he sees her above him, her perfect breasts bouncing away.

“Um…” he breathes out.

“I want you so much,” she moans while nibbling at his earlobe.

Before he can answer, she pulls his head over and presses her lips to his. He groans, he tries not to, but her tongue slipping into his mouth is more than he can take, even drunkenly discoordinated as it is. His mind suddenly flaring with memory of being buried inside her heat while she kissed him like this. He kisses back, cock jolting so hard against the fabric of his dress pants he almost whimpers.

But suddenly a clear thought breaks through all the desire, all the emotion.

_Not like this._

“Swan,” he breaks away to breathe against her lips, holding his forehead to hers for a moment before he continues. “Love, I want you more than anything. Bu-”

“I want you, too,” she groans, moving back to kiss him. “I always want you.”

She pushes herself forward, her nails lightly scratching the back of his head, and attempts to straddle his lap.

“Emma, wait,” he says softly, holding her shoulders and gently pressing her back into the sofa, trying very hard to ignore the persistent throb between his thighs. “This isn’t right. I don’t want you to regret being with me… God knows, I want you so much, but not like this.”

Her brow pinches together as he reaches up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking softly over it.

“You don’t…” a stuttering breath passes her lips. “Want m-me… oh god!” Her body curls and a fresh set of tears form in her eyes. “Oh _god_!” She cries out, covering her face.

Before he can comment, she lifts her arms and attempts to push him away.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, reaching out to hold her wrists. “Swan, calm down. Swan!”

When she continues to struggle, he sighs heavily and does the only thing he can think of. With just enough force to counteract her struggling, he brings her back to him, looping one hand around her neck and pressing a firm, lingering kiss to her lips.

After a few moments, he breaks away again, holding her close and keeping his eyes locked on hers as he speaks, “Listen to me, Emma. I do want you. You have _no idea_ how much I want you. But not when you’re so drunk that probably won’t remember this in the morning.”

She’s silent as her eyes move back and forth between his before she finally breathes out she’s going to be sick. He watches her stagger away toward the bathroom with a grimace, standing to follow behind after a few moments. As to be expected, he finds her already heaving her guts up, half strewn on the floor like she collapsed there.

Bending down beside her, he loops his fingers around her hair and brushes it aside, putting his other hand under her ribs to lift her slightly.

“That’s it, love,” he murmurs smoothly, stroking through her hair. “Get it all out, you’ll be alright.”

He continues to sooth her through her sickness until she finally stops and rests her forehead against the porcelain.

“Mary Margaret is going to kill me.”

“Only if she finds out,” he chuckles. “Think you can be recovered in time?”

Lifting her head, she rests her elbow on the corner of the toilet and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It’s too early to tell,” she mumbles. “Can you do me a favor and grab my bag? I need to get out of this damn dress.”

A quick flush of pink rising in his cheeks, he nods and steps out to retrieve it from the spot he placed it earlier. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard when he passes it, he fills it with water and brings it back with the bag.

When he walks back into the bathroom, she’s already standing, just finishing up brushing her teeth.

“Your belongings, milady,” he says with a half bow and a smile, holding them out. “Got you some water, as well. Your hangover is going to be bad enough without dehydration to worsen it.”

She turns and he has to raise the glass to stop her from knocking it all over him when she stumbles into his chest.

Wrapping his other arm around her back to steady her, he asks, “You alright?” She gives him a half grunt so he lowers the glass to her lips. “Take a sip of this, love.”

She peers up at him through her eyelashes as she drinks the water and when she pulls back, there’s excess on her lips and all he can think about is leaning forward to lick it up himself.

He’s broken out of his little fantasy when she hands him to the glass and takes her bag. He shakes his head as she places it on the closed toilet lid and rips it open. Placing the glass on the sink, his mouth falls open when she pulls a pair of shorts out of the bag and lifts her legs to pull them under her dress, but she stumbles slightly and reaches out for his arm.

“Sorry,” she mumbles before she finishes pulling up her shorts. “Will you unzip my dress?”

He swallows the sudden lump in his throat and gives her a nod, keeping hold of her arm while he guides her around to face away from him.

Giving himself a moment, he drinks in the sight before him, mind flashing to a memory of a very different time, and his eyes slipping closed at the thought of the activities that followed the last time he helped her undress.

He opens his eyes again to look at his hand resting at the top of the dress, holding the fabric down with one hand while he raises the other. Brushing her hair over her shoulder, he tries not to let his fingers linger too long on the skin there, the warmth of it tantalizing familiar. With a deep breath, he takes the zipper between his fingertips and draws it slowly down her spine, his other hand tingling as he slides his hand down her back with it.

_Gods above_ , he groans inside his head, his cock twitching as her dress falls open, length of her spine exposing more of itself to him once more. Oh, to taste it again… feel her shiver under his tongue as he draws it up her back. _Bloody hell._ He tears his eyes away and brings his hands back, focusing on the corner of the room intently.

“There you go, love,” he mutters, voice coming out low and husky.

She gives him thanks, but his ability to hear anything goes completely away when he sees her shoulders shake and the dress fall to the ground. His lips part without a conscious decision as his eyes fall to her chest, the curve of her breasts, _oh, gods above_. For a second, his mind is gone, lost in the memory of how her nipples felt between his lips, the noises she made when he dragged his tongue over those gorgeously hard little peaks.

Then her right hand reaches for something in her bag while her left moves to unclasp her bra and he almost loses it.

“ _Emma_ ,” he suddenly says, blinking away the vision and looking away, flush rising in his cheeks, half embarrassment and half arousal.

Turning away completely, he reaches up and covers his eyes with his palm, rubbing his face for a moment and shifting it down to scratch his jaw, trying to think of anything but the thoughts that are quickly sending heat to his groin.

“Really,” he hears her say from behind him. “It’s not anything you haven’t seen.”

Staring down, he shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be good form. I’ve no right to watch you undress,” _if we’re not…_ “Are you finished?”

“Now you’re a gentleman?” She snorts. “Yes, I’m finished.”

He turns to look back at her. “Am I not always?” he says softly, glancing at the shirt she’s wearing and stepping forward. His heart flutters as he reaches out and brushes his fingers over her shoulder… _his_ shirt.

“I wondered where this went,” he murmurs, tracing his fingers down the sleeve with a hint of a smile.

She shakes her head and leans down to pick up her dress. “You left it at my place a while back.”

He tilts his head in question because he doesn’t remember the last time he was at her flat, let alone leaving it there, but stays quiet. When she stands back up, she stumbles forward into his arms.

“The room is spinning,” she groans and lays her head on his shoulder.

“I know, love,” he whispers, tilting his head to touch hers for a moment, her hair still as wonderfully soft as ever. _Gods, I miss you._ “It’ll pass. Let’s get you to bed. Do you need an arm to lean on?”

“Bed,” she sighs. “Sleep.”

She snuggles deeper into him and hums.

“Swan?” he asks quietly, looking down to see her eyes closed and soft breaths coming out of her mouth. Stroking the back of her hair, he chuckles. “Going to be like that, is it?”

Smile still on his face, he bends down, letting her droop over his shoulder while he wraps one arm around her midriff, the other under her knees, and lifts her from the ground.

“Come on, you,” he murmurs, getting her into a comfortable position and starting to walk back toward David and Mary Margaret’s bedroom. With another soft hum, she wraps her arm around his shoulder. “There’s my girl,” he says under his breath.

By the time he places her down onto the bed, she’s completely passed out, light snores passing her lips. He lifts her legs and pulls the covers back to tuck her in. His cheek creases when she mumbles something in her sleep and he can’t help but brush his fingers over the swell of her cheek.

Leaning down, he presses his lips lightly to the top of her head and whispers, “Goodnight, love.”

* * *

Emma’s eyes snap open only to slam shut again as she brings her hands to her face. Her head is pounding, shit, she can’t remember the last time she was this hungover. She shouldn’t have drank so much, she shouldn’t have…

Her eyes open and she sits up, ignoring the sickness it causes and looks around the room. A small sigh of relief passes her lips when she realizes she’s back in her brother’s loft, only she doesn’t remember how she got there. She tries to rack her brain, but she’s coming up blank.

“Oh thank god,” she whispers when she looks to the small table to see a glass of water and two painkillers sitting next to it.

Leaning over, she quickly grabs them, tossing the pills into the back of her throat and downing the water. Her eyes move to the clock as she swallows and panic starts to set it. She was supposed to be awake two hours ago to go out and get everyone breakfast. Kicking the blankets away from her legs, she jumps out of the bed and rushes into the kitchen, only to stop at the sight before her.

The breakfast she was supposed to pick up was spread out on the island while Mary Margaret, Regina, and Ruby sat around laughing.

“Emma!” She looks up to see Mary Margaret walking toward her, a large smile plastered on her face. “Good, you’re awake! The hairstylist will be here any minute.”

Her mouth open and closes a few times and she blinks. It’s not until Ruby steps forward with a mug of coffee and hands it to her that she snaps out of it.

“Great job with the breakfast, Emma,” Ruby says with a nod like she’s in on something. “We really appreciate it.”

“Oh, yes!” Mary Margaret gasps and puts her hands on her arms. “Emma, everything is absolutely _delicious_! Come on, you’ll have plenty of time to eat, you’re not getting your hair and makeup done until later.”

The bride rushes off, calling over her shoulder about how everything is wonderful and how she’s getting married soon, so Emma steps toward Ruby.

“Do you know how this got here?” she asks in a whisper.

The brunette gives her a smirk and it makes Emma grab her by the elbow and pull her into the living room. “What do you know?”

“Nothing,” Ruby answers in a high pitch tone, but when Emma arches her eyebrow she giggles. “Killian delivered the breakfast earlier, said he had a feeling you’d be sleeping in.”

“How would he know that?”

Ruby snorts, “Really? Who do you think brought your drunk ass back here last night?”

Her mouth falls open as Ruby giggles again before she walks off. Putting her hand to her forehead, she tries not to freak out, because not only did she manage to get completely wasted at her brother’s rehearsal dinner that she had to leave early, but she also blacked out and forgot that the guy she’s crazy about took care of her.

“Oh god.”

* * *

Killian looks absolutely _sinful_ in his tux, seriously, it should be illegal for someone to look _that_ good.

She tries to concentrate on her walking, she really does, but when she sees him…

_Fuck me._

It’s not until she’s almost at the arch way that she realizes she’s staring too long. She expects to him giving her a cocky smirk with that damn eyebrow raised, but when she looks at him, his mouth is parted as his eyes slowly move up her body. When his eyes finally connect with hers, she’s the one that smirks and he answers by shaking his head and looking to his feet.

Throughout the entire ceremony, she feels his eyes on her and it heats her skin. But she brushes it off and just focuses on her brother. The wedding goes off without any disasters, and she does a pretty good job at not crying up until David promises in his vows to always find Mary Margaret, then Emma has to brush away a few stray tears.

By the time the ceremony is over, she’s smiling so wide, she almost misses the arm Killian is holding out for her.

“Very bad form, love,” he whispers.

Her eyes go wide and she instantly starts to go over everything that has happened with the wedding. She thought it went off perfectly, she even managed to hold herself back from crying until David promised in his vows to always find Mary Margaret, but other than that she can’t think of anything bad.

“What?”

“The maid of honor should never outshine the bride in beauty.”

She can’t help the smile that forms on her lips and her eyes move to the ground.

“I’m just surprised I’m able to walk.”

“You might not be able to move, Swan, but you cut quite the figure in that in that dress.”

Her cheeks tint and she’s hit with a sudden memory…

_“I want-” he whispers against her hip bone. “-to trace your entire figure with my tongue.”_

She shivers at the memory and hopes he doesn’t notice.

* * *

Emma’s heart starts to pound in her chest when the DJ makes the announcement that it’s time for the bridal party to join David and Mary Margaret on the dance floor, but she keeps the smile on her face, trying to ignore the way her stomach flips at the thought of dancing with Killian.

Since _that_ night, she’s made it a point to be at least three feet away from him, never standing too close, their photo shoot after the wedding not included. Damn Ruby and her _‘sit on his lap, that way you can see the people behind you’_. And now she has to slow dance with him, thanks to Mary Margaret.

Her friends are trying to kill her.

Suddenly she’s second guessing her no drinking rule because a quick shot of _anything_ might help calm her nerves, but she doesn’t want a repeat of the night before.

_Fuck._

Her mind has been so occupied the entire day, it’s not until that moment she remembers that he’s the one that took care of her. She really hopes she didn’t embarrass herself, if she did, he probably had a good laugh at her expense.

_No, Killian wouldn’t do that._

Logically, she knows that, but she’s still terrified, more so of the things she might have told him. God, what did she tell him?

She’s broken out of her thoughts when she feels a hand brush against her arm. When she turns, her breath catches.

“May I have the honor of this dance, milady?” Killian says, a hint of playfulness in his voice, a smile on his lips, and his palm upturned toward her.

Her lips tug up into a smile without her even realizing before she takes his hand. A soft puff of air passes her lips at the feel of his skin and she hopes he doesn’t notice her trembling.

Taking a step forward, his scent fills her and _god_ , he smells good. The music starts to play and she takes a step toward him.

“Well, considering you _have_ to ask me,” she teases. “Of course.”

“And if I didn’t have to,” he starts, nodding toward the guests before he meets her eyes again, “who else would I ask but the most beautiful woman in the room?”

He gazes over her face while she rolls her eyes, refusing to look at him, but there’s still a small smile on her lips.

Sometimes… the way he looks at her, it’s like he’s peering into her soul, like with a few simple words, she’ll spill all her secrets.

She shakes her head and allows him to take the lead with the dance.

“Can you believe it’s all over? All those months of planning and it’s finally over.”

“Aye,” he agrees, glancing around the room again. “Seems like a lot of bloody effort to me. If I were to marry, I’d like a small affair. My love and I, our immediate family, a peaceful ceremony…” he smiles downward and her mouth parts, slightly.

A quick flash of how he looked waiting at the end of the aisle earlier went through her mind, only in the image, _he_ was the groom and she was the one in white.

_Where the hell did that come from?_

She clears her throat, “Well you know Mary Margaret, she wanted her fairytale. She calls David her Prince Charming,” she smiles fondly toward the couple. “I think it’s sweet.”

“It is,” he nods. “But I think finding my true love would be enough of a fairytale for me.” She finally looks up at him to see his cheeks flush before he looks away with a half-laugh and shakes his head. “Perhaps, I don’t know. Probably daft to speculate until the time comes.”

Sadness washes over her at the thought of him finding his fairytale with another woman.

“Yeah,” she whispers, trying to hide the hurt in her voice and looking down.

For a brief second, she wishes that _she_ was his fairytale, that they would end up living happily ever after, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. Her eyes flicker over to the edge of the dance floor to see the waitress he’d been flirting with earlier and her back straightens. It’s like the cold bucket of reality splashes over her.

Who is she kidding… thinking about being his fairytale when he’s never with a woman for more than one night?

To be fair, she’s never with a man longer either, but she at least dreams of…

It’s then his words sink in and she blinks up at him. Trying to mask her hurt with amusement, she says, “Until the time comes? I think your parade of women might be upset with that.”

“I like to think I make it clear where they stand with me.”

Her lips press together and she looks away, a quick memory of how he let her walk out without any argument flashing through her mind.

_Just as I thought… womanizer through and through._

She stays silent for a long while, trying to reign in those feelings of jealousy that always seem to poke out around him. Her eyes move to see Killian’s older brother Liam standing off to the side with his wife, making a face toward them, only to stop when he notices her looking. Her head tilts in question but he just gives her a smile and a wave before he pulls Belle toward him.

Opening her mouth to ask Killian what that was about, she stops when she sees Cora walk past toward the door to the outside. Suddenly, her embarrassment comes back with full force and she decides to get what happened the night before off her chest.

“I, um… I wanted to apologize about last night. I didn’t mean to get so drunk.”

He grins. “Well, lucky you had someone to look after you, then, isn’t it?” When she gives him a hesitant look, his tone changes to a soothing one. “But you don’t need to apologize to me, love. We’re fine, I promise.”

Her shoulders sag in relief and she lets out a half laugh.

“It was so stupid, getting drunk like that… I just…” she trails off with a sigh, catching Cora walking out onto the deck. “It was stupid.”

Cora’s words echo in her ears and her jaw clenches. Now that’s she more level headed and not worrying about the wedding, she’s angry. If only she could have channeled that anger last night instead of wallowing in self-pity.

“Huh, would you look at that,” she looks up at Killian to see him motion toward the side. When her gaze moves over, her eyes widen. Cora is standing on the deck waving her arms and appears to be yelling.

“What’s going on?”

Killian steps back, pulling her with him so she’s able to get the full view of Leo, Mary Margaret’s father sitting on one of the lounge chairs puffing a cigar. She turns back to Killian, her eyes still wide.

“Did you know that Leopold enjoys a good cigar? And it just so happens that Liam was able to acquire some as a present for the father of the bride.” He explains and she blinks. A smirk forms on his face, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “If only I had known that Cora was so against them.”

She looks back to deck, Cora continues to yell while Leo sits back, puffing away on his cigar.

“Why did you do that?” she asks in a whisper.

He gives her a soft smile and pulls her closer, moving them along with the music. Her head turns, her lips pressing into his shoulder as she tries to hide her smile. Obviously, she told him about what Cora said to her and he took it upon himself for some sort of revenge.

“Ruby told me what you did,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “How you took me back to the loft and picked the breakfast up this morning… thank you.”

“You don’t remember then?”

She shakes her head, “Not so much.”

Her head lifts to study his face and she notices his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You were no trouble, love. Honestly. I’m glad I got to spend a little more time with you.”

There’s something he isn’t telling her, she just knows it. She tries to force herself to remember but it’s all blank.

“Are you sure? You don’t seem…” her eyes widen and her mouth parts as his words sink in.

_No, please dear god, no._

“Oh my god,” she gasps, her face flush with embarrassment. “We slept together didn’t we? Shit, I knew this would happen…”

How could she be so stupid? This is exactly why she told herself not to drink around him. The guard she’s perfected always fades with alcohol… god only knows what else she told him!

He chuckles and looks down at their feet. “I should be so lucky,” she blushes and he shakes his head. “No, we didn’t sleep together, love. I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

Her entire body relaxes as she lets out a large sigh. He’s not lying, she could see that.

_Thank god._

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I just…” _assumed that I threw myself at you and that we went at it in my brother’s loft like there was tomorrow._ “Thank you, Killian.”

“No need to thank me, Swan. You know I’d do anything for you.”

They continue to sway to the music, her heart pounding in her chest. She tries to remember what happened the night before, but the last thing she remembers is sneaking out to the back yard with a bottle of rum and pushing herself on Roland’s swing set.

She wants to ask what _did_ happen between them, she obviously got changed, and Ruby said when they came in, Killian was asleep in the chair next to the bed. She had to wake him so he could leave, but not before he left the glass of water and painkillers for her.

Honestly, his mood swings are starting to give her whiplash. One minute he’s bragging about how he ‘makes what he wants clear’ to his random women, the next he’s telling her he’d do anything for her.

Part of her wants to bark at him, say he has no right to say those things when he doesn’t mean them and they mean the world to her, that having him lie to her… it’s worse than anything in the world.

Because she knows he is… he would never want more.

“Can we talk?” he asks in a whisper, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Clearing her throat, she turns her head to look across the room, “We are.”

“You know what I mean.”

Her stomach flutters and she tries to mask her breathing change. Neither one of them have acknowledged let alone _spoke_ of it and now he wants to…

“Jones…”

“Emma,” he cuts her off. “Please, I just want to talk.”

Before she can answer, the music stops and the DJ asks everyone back to their seats. When she steps away, he catches her arm.

Keeping her eyes to the ground, she mumbles, “Let me go.”

She doesn’t have to look up to know he’s clenching his jaw, she just knows. He hesitates before he lets her go with a murmur, “As you wish.”

She’s only a half a step away when he says, “You asked me a question last night…” Her back goes stiff and she turns her head to peer at him over her shoulder. “Do I ever think about that night?”

The lump in her throat is so large, she can’t breathe. Of _course_ she asked him, honestly, it doesn’t surprise her. She’s thought of nothing but their encounter and would be lying if she said she didn’t want it again… how she feels for him, _fuck_ , she wants it again and so much more.

He places his hands in his pockets and locks his gaze with hers, “Not a day has gone by that I haven’t.”

* * *

Emma stands at edge of the dance floor, gnawing at her bottom lip, the bouquet heavy in her hands. Damn Ruby for pushing her toward the flying object, it landed in her arms before she could even realize what she was doing.

Now she has to worry about which one of these men are going to catch the damn garter belt.

“It’s not going to be _that_ bad,” Ruby mumbles to her as David calls out to all the ‘available’ men. “Maybe you’ll get someone hot.”

“Maybe you’ll get Leroy,” Regina snickers.

Ruby shoves her away while Emma huffs. She contemplates sneaking out, heading up to her hotel room and sleeping for weeks, leaving the bouquet on a table without any indication where she’s gone. But then she sees the excited look on Mary Margaret’s face and knows she can’t disappoint her.

David announces for the men to get ready and her heart starts to hammer in her chest. The men push and shove each other, all with giving her side glances while they prepare to catch. The garter flies through the air and it’s almost as if time slows. Her gaze moves to the group of men and it seems to be heading toward Graham.

She shouldn’t be surprised, Graham has made it know he’s had a crush on her for a long while, of course he would be the one that-

A hand shoots out in front of Graham just before he’s able to catch it.

_Who the hell..._

“Killian Jones has caught the garter belt!”

Emma’s eyes go wide and Killian just stares at her blankly with his eyebrow raised.

“Or _that_ could happen!” Ruby giggles.

The rest of the bridal party scrambles to set the chair up in the middle of the room while she walks over to him.

“Really?” she hisses. “Was that necessary?”

“Did you truly believe I was going to allow another man to touch you?”

She sucks in a breath, but isn’t able to comment because she’s pulled to the center of the room and _oh my god_ is that porn music? Her cheeks heat up and she feels a little uncomfortable. She even jumps slightly when she feels a hand on her ankle.

“Hey,” he whispers from his position on the floor. “It’s just you and me, alright?”

She’s hit with the memory of him in between her legs while he moaned against her skin and she shivers. There are cat calls and whistles that echo around her, but her gaze stays locked with his. It’s just as he says, the rest of the room washes away and it’s just the two of them.

His hands on her right calf makes her gasp, and her mouth falls open as his fingers move _so slow_ across her skin. They leave little shocks in their wake and her thighs seem to clench together on their own.

There’s a heat in his eyes that she hasn’t seen in _months_ and she didn’t realize how much she missed it. It’s as if he only has eyes for her and she craves to be looked at like this always. His thumb brushes the inside of her knee and she has to swallow the lump in her throat. By the time he pushes the garter in place, she’s soaked through and almost leans forward to kiss him, when the shouts and cheers finally pull her back to reality.

It’s then she remembers they are in a room filled with people and she almost spread her legs for him in the middle of a dance floor.

Killian offers her his hand and she stands, just barely able to smile for the photographer that wants to take their picture. Feeling embarrassment wash over her, she storms off toward the hall knowing full well that he’s behind her.

She’s always held herself as being able to control her feelings, when Neal left, Ruth told her if she didn’t know any better, then she wouldn’t have known that she was completely heart broken. But it seems that whenever Killian Jones is around, she forgets the guard she’s so skillfully mastered.

“What’s wro-”

She turns to him with her face hard in anger, “What the hell was that? What were you trying to prove?”

“Prove?” he repeats, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I wasn’t…”

“You were making it completely obvious that we’ve slept together!” she growls. “What if people figure it out?”

She knows it’s ridiculous, if anything, _she_ was the one being obvious in what she wanted, but she’s too embarrassed to care. This is why she has to stay away from him, because she just being _near_ him makes her act crazy.

He shrugs with his face scrunched, “I don’t bloody care if people know.”

“Well I do!” she barks. “I’m not one of your conquests!”

“One of my…” He stops and lets out a huff. They are silent for a few moments before he runs his hand through his hair and takes a half a step toward her. “You have no idea…” his head shakes before he looks back up at her. “Love, I… have a confession to make.”

Her lips press together and she crosses her arms.

“I hold myself as a man who is straight with his feelings, as you know, but I haven’t been entirely honest with you…”

She can feel herself starting to get upset and steps back. There was a reason why she didn’t want to have this conversation, the words he’s about to say, she can’t hear them.

“I already know what you’re going to say, Jones, and trust me, there’s no need to repeat them.” He opens his mouth but she cuts him off. “Seriously, just forget it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to go before I ruin this night like I did last night.”

Turning before he can see sorrow on her face, she starts to walk toward the elevator.

“Emma,” he calls out to her, but she keeps walking. “Emma!” Tears sting her eyes and she’ll be damned if she allows him to see them. “Emma, _please!_ ” She can hear him following behind her, so she quickens her steps. “Just listen to me for a minute!”

Her jaw clenches, but she keeps going, just a few more feet and she’ll be free and she can forget all about this.

“Emma!” he shouts. She’s just about to turn the corner when he calls out to her one last time, “Emma Swan, I’m in love with you!”

That makes her stop. Her entire body freezes and her mouth parts.

_Did he really just…._

She turns without realizing it and just stares at him. He’s standing there, his face showing just a hint of fear and she can see him visibly swallow. Of all the things she pictured him saying… _that_ wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities.

Is he messing with her? Does he know how she really feels and is just…

No, Killian wouldn’t do that to her. Though she doesn’t trust many, she trusts him completely.

But what surprises her most are the feelings that was over her. They aren’t fear, or panic… they’re hope and longing.

Her feet start to move and before she knows it, she’s standing before him. He looks nervous, his fingers are rubbing together at his side and she can tell he’s seconds away from scratching the back of his ear.

She wants to say them back, but she can’t. She wants to ask him how long he’s felt this way, why he’s never told her… why he’s let her believe…

But she doesn’t do that, because that’s what a normal person would do and she’s not a normal person. No, what she does is completely crazy, but is completely her.

Without hesitating, she lifts her hands to his face and pulls his lips to meet hers.

_Holy shit._

She’s forgotten how good of a kisser he is and the way he tastes, _fuck_. His lips taste of rum and cake and his body fits _just right_ pressed up against hers.

She lets out a whimper and goes to push her tongue in his mouth when he suddenly pulls back.

“Wait,” he breathes. “How much have you had to drink?”

With her brows pinched together in confusion, she answers, “A bloody mary with breakfast and a glass of champagne on the bus.”

He groans and lurches forward to fuse his lips with hers again. She’s not sure how they make it up to his room, but her shaw and his coat end up in the hall by the door and their shoes kicked off toward the kitchen area.

“Bloody hell, you’re so beautiful,” he pants against her lips, his hands palming her backside. “I’ve thought of nothing but pealing you out of this red dress since this morning.”

His lips move to her neck and her breath hitches as he licks her pulse.

“God.”

Her fingers work on the buttons of his waist coat, part of her wanting to just rip it off, but she holds herself back. When she finally gets them undone, he reaches up to work on his shirt. She pulls back to see a sliver of his chest hair and moans. Ducking her head, she follows the opening of his shirt with her mouth, sucking and kissing her way down his beautiful chest.

He groans as her fingers work at his belt, and she barely has it undone before taking him into her mouth.

“Bloody _fuck_!” He groans, sending shock waves right down to her core.

She forgot how wonderful he tastes and the beautiful noises that pass his lips, _god_ , they make her ache with need. He’s so responsive, she wants to hear more of him.

Flattening her tongue, she pushes her head forward to take him further into her mouth.

“Emma,” he chokes out, his thumb caressing her cheek while the fingers of his left hand dig into her shoulder. “Your m-mouth… _gods above_ … Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been… _fuck_ … being close to you… just a passing thought of you makes me hard.”

She hums around his cock, her thighs rubbing together to ease her own ache, while she sucks him. Her head starts to bob faster with each intake as she reaches up to stroke his shaft with her mouth moves to his tip. She swirls her tongue around, almost giggling at the way his hips jerk before she moves all the way down, tracing the veins on his shaft until she knows them by memory.

“So warm…”

Pushing him past her throat, she fights her gag reflex while his thick hair tickles her nose and waits a few seconds before she pulls back with a gasp.

“Love,” he whimpers, taking a loose grip on the back of her neck. “I need… oh, fuck, I w-want to pleasure you but you feel so _bloody_ amazing.”

Thinking back to his whispered words the last time they were together, of how much he loved her taste, she uses her left hand to bunch her dress up around her waist and pushes her soaked underwear aside. A soft moan vibrates from the back of her throat as she pushes two of her fingers inside of her, coating them with her juices before she lifts her hand to him. His lips wrap around her fingers without question and his grip on her neck tightens.

Her moans mix with his while his tongue traces her fingers, “You taste…”

When she looks up at him, he gazes down at her with lust filled eyes and his mouth still sucking on her fingers. She pushes forward again, hollowing her cheeks to take him back into her throat and watches as he throws his head back and groans, her wet fingers sliding down his exposed chest.

His legs start to shake and she can’t help but smile around him, the one thing she regrets about their night together is that she didn’t get to taste his release because her mouth waters at just the thought. But it seems she’s not going to get her chance, because before she can deepthroat him again, he’s pulling her up and pressing his lips to hers.

“You’re a bloody angel,” he breathes, pushing her until her back hits the wall. “Incredible-” he starts to unzip her dress and kiss down her neck. “-exquisite. Your mouth is heaven itself.”

She swallows the lump in her throat and closes her eyes. The way his tongue is tracing the edge of her bra makes her shiver while he pulls her dress down her body. Before she knows what’s happening, he’s on his knees in front of her.

“What-” He throws her leg over his shoulder, pushes her underwear aside, and she sees stars. “Killian!”

Her fingers tangle in his hair while his tongue draws a single tantalizingly slow circle over her clit.

“Mm,” he hums against her. “A man could likely drown between your beautiful thighs.”

Part of her thinks she should be embarrassed, she’s unbelievably wet and it’s all because of him. When he places his mouth to her core, her heel digs into his back and he reaches up to grip her hip, holding her place while she grinds against him. He moves to lick a long, slow stripe through her folds with the flat of his tongue and her back arches.

She’s already so close to falling, but she tries to hold off, wanting the pleasure to last as long as possible while he feasts on her. Though with each swipe of his tongue, she’s finding it harder and harder to hold off, the way he groans his pleasure at her taste, it’s sending vibrations throughout her entire body.

Unable to hold back, she breathes out how close she is and his tongue flutters over her clit faster than humanly possible. Her grip tightens in his hair and her thigh presses hard against his ear, fireworks going off behind her eyes as she falls apart.

“Killian, oh _god_!” She practically sobs, her entire body trembling with pleasure as she comes down from her high.

With a swirl of his tongue and final kiss to her throbbing clit, he removes her leg from his shoulder to stand, wrapping it around his waist while he pulls her close.

“There’s my good girl,” he whispers, capturing her lips in a wet kiss from her arousal. “So gorgeous when you come undone.”

Her head falls forward, her lips twitching up into a drunken smile.

“My face is numb,” she murmurs against his mouth.

“That sounds like a challenge,” he pulls back and smiles down at her. “And I do _love_ a challenge.”

Wrapping his arms around her, she giggles as he lifts her into the air and fuses his lips with hers again. When he places her down on the bed, her eyes move over him and her body is on high alert again. He’s standing before her, his tie hanging loosely from his neck, his shirt unbuttoned, suspenders still on and his pants undone.

_Fuck me._

“You look positively _wrecked_ , my darling,” he purrs.

“And you-” she bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. “-are wearing too many clothes.”

She leans forward to grab one of the suspenders and pulls him toward her. It doesn’t take them long to undress, but when she moves to take the garter belt off, his hand shoots out to stop her.

“Don’t,” he begs, his fingers moving softly over the silk. When he looks up at her, she sucks in a breath at the lust in his eyes. “Was it so terrible?”

Shaking her head slowly, she whispers, “I was wet the second your fingers touched my skin.”

He growls and lurches forward, pressing his lips hard against her own and pushing her body up onto the bed. His arms move to rip the pillows off the bed while she wraps her legs around his waist and reaches down to grip his hard cock.

Once he’s buried inside of her, her head falls back against the bed and his falls to her neck. Her memory is _nothing_ compared to the real feeling and she wonders how she was ever able to walk away from him before.

It isn’t just the pleasure of having him inside of her, no, this is something different entirely… it just feels _right_.

“Love being inside of you,” he murmurs in her ear, his hips starting to move softly. “Never want to leave.”

“Don’t leave,” she breathes out.

Her words mean so much more than what he thinks, because even though they have this moment, she wants more and doesn’t want to be afraid anymore.

He shakes his head, groaning promises of never leaving into her skin as his lips drag down her neck. Her nails dig into his biceps and her lower half lifts to meet his thrusts as he begins to speed up.

“I’ve never wanted… _anyone_ as much… _gods_ ,” he pants against her breast. “You’re perfect.”

The sound of their skin slapping together mixed with their moans and cries of pleasure fill the room, and if she was thinking clearly, she would worry about the people in the next room. But all she can think about is Killian and the way his hips are grinding-

“Oh god!”

Her entire body jerks as he grinds against her clit and pushes deep into her.

“You like that, don’t you, darling? Love my cock inside of you…” She makes a noise from the back of her throat and he gives a hard thrust. “Good girl.”

She wants to tell him how good he feels, speak to him like he does to her, but every time she opens her mouth, the words get stuck and she ends up just moaning. Her ankles hook at the small of his back and she lifts her hips to match his thrusts.

“Bloody hell!”

A slight gasp passes her lips as he pushes himself up onto his knees. With his brows furrowed in concentration, he lifts her hips up, making her body bend slightly, allowing him to hit spots on her she didn’t know existed.

“You’re gorgeous,” he all but growls, a bead of sweat falling from his forehead. “Could lose myself forever inside of you.”

“Killian,” she sobs, her hands moving to press against the headboard behind her.

He continues to moan praises to her, words of love and pleasure, telling her how much she means to him… it all becomes too much. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she shoots up and pulls herself into his lap.

“ _Fuck_ , Emma.”

She circles her arms around his shoulders and starts to bounce up and down in his lap. His head tilts back and his mouth falls open. Her fingers tangle in his hair and she holds him in place while her tongue pokes out to lick his lips.

“I can feel you everywhere. You’re so _hard_.”

He groans and pushes his tongue into her mouth, his hands moving to her ass, pulling her to grind against him, making her clit rub against him.

Fingers tightening against her skin, his voice dripping with pleasure, “Come with me, my love. I want to f-feel… you… oh _fuck_ … push me o-over.”

Before he’s even finished speaking, her entire body goes tense and her eyes screw shut. Crying out his name, she falls apart around him, her muscles squeezing his cock and her nails digging into his hair. With his forehead pressed against her collarbone, she barely hears his moans mixed with her own.

Her entire body melts, the only thing keeping her upright is his arms around her. She can feel his cock twitching against her walls while her heart pounds in her chest. Her skin is still vibrating and she realizes that her throat is somewhat sore from overuse, but none of that matters.

All that matters is how good and _right_ it feels to be with him.

They eventually fall back onto the bed and she lets out a low hiss when he pulls out of her. Placing a soft kiss to her shoulder, he rolls over to the side of her, his left hand keeping a firm grip on her hip.

She stares at the ceiling while she tries to catch her breath. Her skin is still tingling and the pinpricks of pleasure on her face make her smile. She remembers how last time all she wanted to do was snuggle into his arms, but she was scared, this time, she’s not. She shifts to move closer to him when his release starts to leak out of her. Deciding that it would be better to clean up first, she moves to sit up and throws her legs over the side of the bed.

“I think your shaw is in the hallway, when you want it,” he says quietly.

She stops from standing and her mouth drops. Her heart starts to beat wildly in her chest and her entire body goes stiff.

After everything… the night before, the things he’s said… she _was_ right about him.

“Wha…” she trails off and shakes her head, still unable to grasp what is going on. Tears of embarrassment sting her eyes and she grabs the sheet to cover herself.

After a few seconds, she tucks a piece of stray hair behind her ear, and turns to him with her head tilted. “Did I miss something here?”

He looks up at her with his brows furrowed. “What? I thought… you were… you were leaving, weren’t you?”

He leans forward and the arm holding the sheet to her chest tightens.

Letting out a stuttering breath, she bites her lip and wills her tears to stay in her eyes.

“I, uh, if that’s what you want. I just thought…” she trails off and shakes her head again before standing. Wrapping the sheet around her body, she moves to find her discarded clothes. “Never mind,” she mumbles to herself. “Yeah, I can go.”

“No,” he says and moves to pull his boxers up. Before she can leave, he’s at the edge of the bed, his hand outstretched toward hers. He stands up behind her and touches her arm gently. “No,” he says again, softer, meeting her eyes as he encourages her around to face him. “That’s not what I want, at all. I never wanted that.”

A lone tear runs down her face and her shoulders curl in embarrassment. “But you said…”

“I didn’t think you’d want to say, Emma, I thought you just…” he trails off with a shake of his head, his gaze falling to where his fingers are brushing her wrist. “Just needed the comfort.”

She stares at him in disbelief and takes a step back, “So you tell me to leave? How does that make sense?”

“Emma…” He looks up at her as her arm slips from his fingers again, the crease between his brows deepening. “I didn’t mean to imply I wanted you to leave, I’m so sorry, love.”

Sagging, he drops onto the edge of the bed, raising his hand in a loose gesture as he stares down. “The last time you left, I assumed I just… wasn’t… _good_ for you.” He glances up again, running his hand over his face. “But I wanted to be. I really _hoped_ I could…”

She rubs her hands up and down her arms as she listens to him. Her instincts are telling her to run… this is too much, but she doesn’t. His voice sounds so hurt, she can’t just say nothing.

“I didn’t leave because you weren’t good for me, Killian,” she confesses in a small voice. “Me leaving had nothing to do with you.”

“If not me, then… what was it?”

She swallows the lump in her throat and stares at him for a few moments without saying anything. Part of her wants to lie, give some excuse that she knows in the end he won’t believe because he’s Killian and he can read her better than anyone, but the other part is telling her to take that leap of faith… to trust him.

“Because I didn’t want to get hurt again,” she mumbles, moving to sit down next to him. “Because I was scared you would think what we did was a mistake and hurt me… so I left first.”

“Emma,” he starts, turning to face her and raising his knuckles to brush her hair from her face. “Being allowed the opportunity to show you how I feel about you was the greatest night of my life… If I had my way, I’d never leave your side.”

She looks away for a moment before turning back to him, “How you feel… but you never said anything. You let me leave… you didn’t bring it up again. You agreed it was a one time thing!”

“I’d never force you,” he sighs, hanging his head. “That’s not the man I want to be. But you…” He trails off before he looks up, confusion furrowing his brow. “You make it sound as though you wanted me to stop you? How can that…”

Her hands fall to her lap and she looks down at them. Mary Margaret’s voice keeps repeating in her head, and it’s what makes her finally take a deep breath and tell him the truth.

“Part of me did,” she whispers. “But there’s another part, the part that made me run… it’s telling me to run now, because it’s easier if I leave before you leave me. Because I couldn’t stand to lose you, too.”

He shifts a touch closer to her and she sucks in a breath when he speaks, “I’m not going to leave you, Emma.” He lays his fingers over hers and the corner of his mouth flicks up in a smile. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.” Looking down, he scratches behind his ear and gives a tiny shrug, mumbling down at his lap, “I love you.”

Her heart flutters the same way it did when he first said those words. She wants to say them back, because she’s been in love with him for _years_ , but she can’t. Though she believes him, she’s terrified if she says them…

Leaning forward, she does the only thing she can of and brushes her lips against his. He reaches up with both hands, cupping her face, and kisses her back.

Resting his fingers on her neck, he mumbles against her lips, “I completely adore you. I’ll never leave you for as long as you want me.”

“Good.”

A little giggle passes her lips as he rests his forehead against hers. After a few moments, he pulls back.

“If you weren’t leaving, where were you going?”

Her cheeks heat up and she motions to the bathroom.

“I was, uh, just going to clean up a little.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, gaze moving over to the door before he looks back at her. “Well, that’s unnecessary.” When she tilts her head in question, he raises his eyebrow and presses his tongue to the back of his teeth. “I’m nowhere _near_ finished with you.”

Her eyes widen, but before she can respond, he buries his face into her neck and pushes her back down onto the bed.

A year and a half later, they are in the same hotel room celebrating _their_ wedding night.


End file.
